


Bleeding Heart

by Terminal_Illness



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Empath, Fluff and Humor, How Do I Tag, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Protective Uchiha Itachi, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:47:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24416878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminal_Illness/pseuds/Terminal_Illness
Summary: In which the author has probably taken one too many psychology courses and started thinking too deeply about the growth and development of Naruto characters.How does the insertion of a character with emotional competence affect the development of others?OrWhat if Orochimaru had a son and Itachi had had better company than a bunch of nukenin?You know, normal questions that lead to a seamless narrative.
Comments: 61
Kudos: 272





	1. Young Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [What Doesn't Kill You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6342574) by [Zbluez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zbluez/pseuds/Zbluez). 
  * Inspired by [It Ends At Dawn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8520907) by [KannaKyomu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KannaKyomu/pseuds/KannaKyomu). 



> I have no idea what I'm doing but I'm pushing forward. I'm learning as I go, so please be gentle. I wrote this for me so it's the kind of story I'd enjoy. It's inspired by all the works I've read over the years, with my own personal twist. I thought maybe someone else might like it too, and if not, what could it hurt?

“Not everyone can feel things as deeply as you. Most people, their feelings are ... bland, tasteless. They'll never understand what it's like to read a poem and feel almost like they're flying, or to see a bleeding fish and feel grief that shatters their heart.”

\- Juliann Garey, _Too Bright to Hear Too Loud to See_

Maybe I lost control of my car on a rainy day. Maybe I slipped on an ice cube and brained myself on the kitchen island. Maybe the weight of the world and all it’s problems became too much for my squishy, human brain to handle. Choked on a grape, struck by lightning, mauled by a bear. Would it really matter?

There wasn’t much after it happened, just a lot of pain. Someone was sobbing, and it was a desperate, lonely sound. It almost made me want to stay. I _wanted_ to stay. But it wasn’t my choice. 

It wasn’t a neat transition from life to death. It was like nodding off. Flickering like a light bulb. The sea lapping at the shoreline, a constant drag and pull eroding away at me until I was gone. Except it wasn’t falling asleep. There was no sensation of falling or floating, actually. No pearly gates or fiery pits. It was terrifying. It was being something and then suddenly being nothing but a wisp of consciousness, stripped of everything that made you, you. Hopes, dreams, regrets- identity. It was a contradiction of existence, feeling nothing but _lack_. Eternity in a single second. It was- best not to dwell on. 

As swiftly as it came, oblivion left. With my newfound lungs I screamed, sobbed, _breathed_. With my new body, I lived.

-

_3 Months_

“Daiki.”

The little boy looked up at his mother, smiled at her with the pure bubbling joy that only small children possessed. She smiled back at him, picking him up gently and cradling him close. Daiki felt a wave of warmth wash over his small form, a wave of _cherish, protect, love_. He echoed it back to his mother. _Cherish. Protect. Lovelovelove._ He could feel her surprise and then her joy as she snuggled him. “My little prodigy, playing with chakra before he can walk.” Daiki laughed brightly as she tickled him, peppering his face with kisses.

-

_3 years_

Life with his mother was warm and simple, yet full of lessons disguised as games. Daiki and his mother would often sit together before bed, with mugs of warm milk laced with honey, and _echo_ . Mother would pulse beats of emotions and Daiki would repeat the patterns back at her. She introduced him to many feelings that most toddlers would not come to experience until later in life, acclimatizing him to them and naming them. _Love_ that flowed like the softest silk, _trust_ that was as unyielding as the face of a mountain, oilily _disgust_ that squirmed like maggots and left him dry heaving, _anger_ like raging fire that made his head ache and his nose bleed. Negative emotions were always laced with a niggling of _regret_. He noticed that after _anger_ always came _comfort_. How his mother made sure to always leave him _happy_ and _loved_. 

Daiki’s mother did what she had to. She taught, Daiki learned.

Daiki watched as his mother paced agitatedly back and forth. She had cleaned the kitchen, living room, and bathroom in an organized frenzy and then sat down on the couch, stood and walked past where he sat playing, unlocked the door and opened it, closed it and locked it, sat back down. She repeated this until Daiki lost interest in counting how many times she walked by. Her _nervous, worried, scared_ made his tummy ache. 

Standing on wobbly legs, Daiki toddled over to where his mother sat on the couch, pulling himself up with great effort. The fact she didn’t help him up only gave him more reason to worry. He didn’t try to comfort her with words, he couldn’t. His grasp on language was too weak to be of any help in this situation. Daiki concentrated on every memory of love and safety he had, every soft hug, every lullaby, every forehead kiss that banished nightmares. He concentrated so hard he didn’t remember closing his eyes. When he opened them, he looked down to hands glowing a faint blue. Instinctively, he pressed them to the blue pulsing shroud he could faintly see around his mother. He watched with wide eyes as she tensed then relaxed, turning to him with a soft smile. She cradled him close.

The next morning she brought him to their elderly neighbor’s house. She said she was back on the “active duty roster” and had to go on a month-long “mission”. She still felt _worried, scared_ but it was buried under _fierce, determined._ They did not need words to say goodbye. She pulsed _love, regret_ and he echoed back _love, understanding_. She hugged him swiftly, planted a kiss on the top of his head, and turned on her heel, walking stiffly away without looking back. Daiki waved at her retreating back anyway, only going inside when Mrs. Yamada placed a weathered hand on his shoulder.

He never saw his mother again. 

In the weeks that came after, Daiki became acquainted with a new emotion, one his mother had never had the heart to teach him. 

_Devastation_.

Even as young as he was, Daiki understood Mrs. Yamada was much too old to take care of a toddler full time, so when she brought him to the building that radiated _lonely,_ he didn’t cry or throw a tantrum. He squeezed her hand in assurance when he felt her _regret_ descend over the both of them like a funeral shroud as a matronly woman smiled at him before asking him to follow her. As his fingers slipped from hers, Daiki had a feeling he wouldn’t see Mrs. Yamada again. He gathered _safe, happy, protected_ at his core, reveling in what little comfort he could provide himself. It almost kept away the cold _abandoned_.

Almost.

Konoha Orphanage was a large wooden building that curdled Daiki’s stomach. It was as though the building itself leeched warmth from its occupants, taking their _hope, happy_ and replacing it with _weak, sad._ He could feel the _lonely_ claw at his core. It was a vile feeling, and Daiki knew that if he didn’t, if he couldn’t, hold onto his memories of being _safe_ and _content_ , he would fall victim to it. 

Daiki took to his own company. It was not out of a sense of superiority or anything so foolish, but out of necessity. The other orphans’ emotions were too loud, grabby. He discovered and came to terms with this during the first dinner he spent with them. The other children, even the ones with large smiles and loud laughs, were cold at the core. Every last one had a harsh stroke of _something_ across the emotions they felt. And _bitter, angry, sad_ hurt Daiki… but not as much as _lonely._ _Sad_ twisted Daiki’s stomach, but _lonely…_ _lonely_ latched itself onto him and drained him. It thrashed and clung to him like a drowning victim, attempting to leech off what little _happy_ he managed to hide within himself and drag them both down.

So Daiki learned to live apart. He avoided mealtimes, running errands for the cooks in exchange for “extra” snacks. He slept during the day, when the other children were out playing, and escaped to the village at night. After being caught sneaking out the first few times, Daiki found that he could remain undetected if he hid his core under a mimicry of the simple, flighty cores of small animals like mice and birds. He discovered that certain places remained open throughout the night, one of such places being the library. 

The library became one of Daiki’s favorite places. The pages of books hummed with leftover _curious, focused, content._ Daiki enjoyed running his fingers over the spines of the adventure section, just to take in the remnant _excited, gleeful_. He found himself thumbing through dictionaries just to absorb the almost playful _inquisitive, intent_ they exuded. The last pages of books were by far the best pages, in Daiki’s opinion. Daiki could tell a lot about a book from its last page. He loved to just sit and soak up the _satisfaction, content_ that they gave off, just as much as (if not more than) their words. It was at the library Daiki first came across mention of ninjas, chakra, and the empaths who influenced them.

-

Itachi watched his charge creep through Konoha’s lamp-lit streets, faintly impressed as the five year old managed to slip past multiple Jonin and Chunin level ninja using his odd kekkei genkai. It seemed Daiki was en route once more to the library. The child had improved in stealth in leaps and bounds over the past few weeks, something Itachi would be mentioning to the Hokage in his monthly report. 

This mission had been curious at first. He would check in on the boy in between missions, reporting what he found directly to the Hokage by word of mouth only. Itachi had wondered why his Hokage would assign watching an orphan boy as Itachi’s first mission as an Anbu, much less make it long-standing. That was, however, before Itachi discovered Ueno Daiki was Orochimaru’s son.

The boy appeared to possess an intellect and emotional control superior to those of his age group. He maintained a heady desire to learn, that much was obvious. It was hard to gauge how well he was developed socially due to the fact he seemed to avoid other children; other people in general really. 

Itachi couldn’t help but compare Daiki to his younger brother, Sasuke. Compared to Sasuke, Daiki was much more… guarded. Even when he smiled, which was seldom in the presence of people but often in the presence of books, there was a certain edge to it. One that was cautious and fragile. He wasn’t a sullen child, far from it, it seemed. He was just… careful? As though he meticulously thought through each of his actions and reactions. 

Itachi had wondered if Daiki was ill, or perhaps dangerously lazy, the first time he watched the boy sleep through the day. He had been contemplating taking Daiki to the hospital when the boy finally stirred as the other children poured into the room to sleep. Daiki remained awake, and Itachi watched as the boy waited for the others to fall asleep before sneaking out of the room and then out of the Orphanage proper. It seemed routine for him, and over the past month, Itachi had fallen into the boy’s pattern. Like clockwork, the boy would sleep through the day, waking occasionally to take care of his needs, and take to the village at night. Daiki would then wander, sometimes to random training grounds, always to the library. 

There were times when the boy would look to where Itachi was concealed as if he knew Itachi was there. Itachi was not so dense as to believe these moments were mere flukes. If this boy, this boy that perhaps only the Hokage and Itachi saw for what he truly was, could find him, perhaps Itachi would let him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I already have much of the story written and planned out, so expect more. Please leave a comment if you're into that sort of thing.


	2. Brave Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are not who we used to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy!

"Life shrinks and expands in proportion to one's courage."

-Anais Nin

Daiki rolled over onto his side as his fellow orphans came in to settle for bed, his blood pounding in his ears. He had had the dream again. The one that he’d been having for as long as he could remember, that flashed places, faces, and objects he didn’t recognize. The one that always ended in the void. He felt his breath stutter as his chest grew tight, his hands and feet cold. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see, someone help plea- 

Daiki tightened his fists until his nails dug into his palms. He could feel. He could think. His name was Ueno Daiki and his mother used to call him Dai. He liked to eat dango from Mr. Souma’s stand. He was currently reading a book about the Second Shinobi War. He- 

He was alive. 

Daiki fought back tears as he stared into the darkness of the room, exhausted and weak despite having slept all day. He wanted nothing more than to jump up and scream, bounce around- just _move_. Anything to give his brain more proof that he was alive. Instead, Daiki began the chakra control exercises he found in the library as he waited for the sound of childish giggles to die down and breaths to steady, reflexively throwing up a barrier of _happy, content_ to keep the other children’s emotions at bay. 

He exhaled shakily, flexing his fingers and toes to regain feeling in them. Gathering chakra in his core, he directed it to his arms and then his hands, his legs and then feet. Flushing out any lingering sensations of _terror_ left in his system. Daiki had just finished directing a small portion of his chakra to his left pinky toe when the last child’s breath leveled out in sleep. 

Swiftly and silently, Daiki made his bed before levering himself up onto the window sill. Once on the roof, Daiki waited for his shadow to unwittingly announce its presence by snapping from _bored_ to _alert_ at his appearance. They weren't always there, but they were often enough that Daiki had to be wary. Today his shadow, tentatively and uncreatively dubbed Kuro, was hidden somewhere in the branches of the tree in the orphanage’s back garden. 

Daiki… didn’t mind Kuro. His emotions were quiet and unobtrusive, as though he held them tightly to his chest like a hand of cards. Granted, Daiki could see through the cards, but the attempt to hide them was respectable.

(It wasn’t at all like Daiki’s previous tail, whose attempt to hide felt like whispered chatter in the back of Daiki’s skull. It had annoyed Daiki so much he approached the tail to tell him to quiet down. Daiki never saw that particular tail again.) 

It was always funny to see Kuro’s chakra spike in _alarm_ or _curiousity_ when Daiki attempted something new he learned from the library. Daiki had initially been very worried about Kuro’s presence, to an almost paranoid extent. That had changed a few weeks ago when Daiki broke his arm falling out of a tree, only to wake up the next morning in his bed with two functioning arms. 

And a book titled _Tree Walking for Dummies_ digging into his spine. 

So, no, Daiki didn’t mind Kuro. Fond wasn’t quite the word he would use to describe his feelings towards the shinobi (Because really, what else could Kuro be?), but it was a near thing. Kuro was the closest thing Daiki had to a welcome, familiar presence since- Daiki batted away all the negative emotions that threatened to pull him under. Not tonight. Tonight was a night for celebration. Daiki felt his core fill with _excitement_ as he lightly flared his chakra to get Kuro’s attention before neatly hiding his core under the familiar mimicry of a tanuki’s more unassuming one and jumping off the roof. He stumbled slightly upon landing but darted quickly into the nearest shadow. Hopping the orphanage’s gate, Daiki took off full tilt through the forest, smiling briefly as he felt Kuro give chase. 

Chakra manipulation. Daiki had tree walking down pat after a couple nights of practice. Tonight, he was going to try his hand at water walking, a skill taught to fresh Genin shinobi. He was going to show Kuro that he wasn’t a _dummy_ , that he was capable and _smart_. Then, after he successfully trounced water walking, he was going to get victory dango from Mr. Souma’s stand. 

Daiki followed a foot trail worn into the underbrush until it opened up into a large clearing bordered on three sides by forest, the fourth by river. A training ground, frequented by ninja if the heavy blanket of stale chakra in the air held any clout. The very soil of the field was permeated with remnant feelings of _determination_ and _will_. It was very motivating; Daiki could understand why someone would enjoy training here. 

As Daiki approached the river, he felt Kuro settle into the branches of a tree a few feet to his left. A decent vantage point. Good. Daiki wanted him to see this. 

He slipped off his sandals and quickly reviewed everything he had read about chakra control and water walking the past few days. He was ready. Taking a deep breath, Daiki directed a small portion of his chakra to the bottoms of his feet. He took a step forward, planting one foot on the river’s surface as though it were solid land. He breathed out through his nose, adding and taking away chakra to account for the water’s movement. Another step forward. Daiki wobbled for a moment before he settled, his figure bobbing gently in time with the river’s flow. He did it!

A beatific grin stole his face and he distracted himself from the urge to stick his tongue out in Kuro’s general direction by taking a couple more shaky steps. He almost felt giddy. The water was slippery against his bare, chakra coated feet. It felt like standing on lukewarm ice. Daiki couldn’t help smiling in Kuro’s direction. He’d done it and now Kuro- And now Kuro was leaking some emotion? What was it? Daiki focused for a second because he could have swore it was _pride-_

Daiki’s inattention cost him his foot hold. As his feet lost purchase on the water’s surface, Daiki came to the realization that he was in the middle of the river… and that he didn’t know how to swim. But that didn’t matter, right? Surely swimming couldn’t be so hard, not harder than climbing a tree without your hands-

Daiki’s head went under and suddenly he was trapped in _the_ _nightmare_. 

He felt the switch in consciousness immediately. One moment the water was warm, the next it was _freezing_ , and- and his limbs were so _heavy_. _I’m scared. The ocean’s so deep they’ll never find me._ _He couldn’t see the shore, which way was it to shore? Where was his brother? He was supposed to keep an eye on the pink umbrella… He had to keep swimming but- But what? He was so tired… It would be okay to rest for a second- Wouldn’t it?_

_He was sinking, but at least his limbs weren’t so heavy anymore, his whole body blissfully light-_

He was coughing. His lungs were on fire, everything was sore.

He- He didn’t have a brother. His name was Ueno Daiki. And- and his mother used to call him Dai. He liked to eat dango from Mr. Souma’s stand. He was currently reading-

He was alive. 

Daiki felt a sob build up in his burning chest. He was alive and he’d be okay and someone was rubbing his back and whispering the same assurances- Daiki opened his eyes, only to be met with a startlingly bright, white mask. Anbu. The mask reflected the moonlight ominously but even through the pain and his tears Daiki could recognize the evasive purr of Kuro’s chakra, Kuro’s- Green chakra? 

Kuro’s glowing green hands pressed against his chest and it was like cool fingers against a feverish forehead, instant relief. Up until the point Daiki had to pull away to cough up more water. It was coming from his nose, it was gross. If he had the energy to he would run away because if Kuro thought he was an idiot before-

“That should be the last of the water in your lungs. I’m sorry, you are going to be sore for a while. I’m not the best healer.” 

Kuro slowly helped Daiki sit up. He shook his head when Kuro asked if he wanted to go to the hospital. Kuro’s voice was soft. Everything was maddeningly gentle. When Kuro reached to adjust Daiki’s sodden yukata, Daiki brushed off his hand. He was _angry_ , he didn’t know why he was so _irritated_. No. The feelings in his core didn’t burn and roar. They slid and cowered, slick and rubbery like offal. He took a moment to take stock of his emotions, breathing in harshly through his nose. 

He was _scared_. He was _embarrassed_. He wasn’t, however, angry. Much less at Kuro.

“Sorry.” 

Kuro nodded rigidly at his stiff apology. Daiki thought he looked quite like he wanted to disappear. Realizing that was a very real possibility, he reflexively grabbed a fistful of Kuro’s sleeve. It was wet. Kuro was soaked, covered in sand from the shore, his breathing elevated slightly. Beneath the controlled _calm_ he broadcasted there was _concern, confusion, affection,_ and _anger._ The _affection_ tumbled and skipped like a young child. He suddenly wondered who Kuro was seeing when he looked at Daiki. When he saved him. Who Daiki reminded him of.

“Thank you.” 

It was quiet, but Kuro must have heard him because he nodded again. He gently pried Daiki cold, stiff fingers from his sleeve before disappearing in a whirlwind of leaves. Daiki was left with the feeling that something had simultaneously gone very wrong and very right. 

He sneezed.

-

Itachi didn’t think as he dove into the water when Daiki didn’t immediately resurface.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. He did think. He thought about Sasuke. 

As Daiki’s little body disappeared beneath the water’s surface, Itachi saw Sasuke in his place. The frigid fingers of fear dug harshly into his heart as he hauled Daiki’s limp body to shore, the only thought circling in his brain was whether Sasuke was going to be okay. For a brief moment, he didn’t see Daiki’s smooth locks but Sasuke’s spiked tuffs. He saw a dark blue Uchiha clan shirt instead of Daiki’s customary violet yukata. Then Daiki coughed, and the illusion was broken. 

Itachi found he was no less worried. Water poured from the poor boy’s nose and Itachi soothed him, carefully using healing chakra to coax water from the child’s lungs. The _something_ in Itachi’s chest that was frantic and shaken calmed as he patted the child’s back, the contact assuring both the boy and himself that he was okay.

Daiki wasn’t Sasuke. Itachi knew this. They were eerily alike at times, in their fierce determination to improve and eagerness to train, but the similarities stopped there. 

Maybe it was because Daiki was the same age as his precious little brother that sometimes when Itachi followed the boy he didn't just see a charge to watch but someone to _protect_. Maybe it was something about Daiki himself. Itachi rubbed Daiki’s back in soothing circles as the boy made a valiant effort not to cry. The pride he had felt when Daiki stood triumphantly on the water’s surface was just as real and fierce as when Sasuke handed him a picture he’d drawn of their family this morning. As Daiki shivered against Itachi’s side, Itachi wondered just when in the weeks that Itachi had been watching him that the boy stopped being just another mission and became something more. 

He watched Daiki shuffle sedately back to the orphanage in silent contemplation. He nodded resolutely to himself as he felt something settle in his chest. Something _right_. 

He wouldn’t mind having another little brother. 

-

It was a week before Daiki could bring himself to return to the riverside. 

It wasn’t _him_ that was scared. No. Something _in_ him, the part of him that didn’t abide by logic, was terrified. 

Daiki sat in the wet sand of the shoreline, errant pebbles clacking beneath him as he shifted his weight. Already he could feel his pulse pick up, his palms becoming clammy in fear. He knew the moment he touched the water, he would lose himself. That- that wasn’t okay. He was a being of logic. This fear was irrational, it wasn’t _him_. It wasn’t _his_. He didn’t know who was so deeply afraid of the water, but he did know it wasn’t Ueno Daiki. Or at least wasn’t going to be. 

Daiki left his yukata folded on the sand and stood at the edge of the river, letting it lap at his toes. He kept his eyes open. Daiki took a step forward into the water, the feeling unsettlingly reminiscent of his disastrous attempt at water walking. A pink umbrella flashed across his vision. He took a deep breath in, willing himself to stay in the present. He took several more steps in quick succession and the water rose just above his knees. 

He was shaking, and it had little to do with the water’s temperature or the light summer breeze. 

_He had to keep the pink umbrella in sight, his head above the water-_

Daiki shook his head side to side violently, as though he could dislodge the thought, shake the unwelcome and foreign feelings from his skull. The water climbed to his waist, and Daiki felt the urge to scream for help rise grossly in his chest, fear rearing its head ferally like a rabid thing.

 _No. No no no. NoNoNoNONO-_ He turned to head back to shore- 

And then Kuro was there, standing stonily next to Daiki’s discarded yukata. Daiki felt many things at once, the primary feeling surging in his chest being _confusion_ , right next to the complimentary feeling of _embarrassment_ that always came with Kuro witnessing him fail at something. And he was failing, wasn’t he? Heading back to shore-

“You can do it.”

Daiki paused, shock causing him to momentarily forget about the water flowing past his thighs. Then the _fear_ returned full force, a slick, burning, gurgling sensation rising in the back of his throat.

“I can’t.” The words hurt coming out just as much as they hurt sitting in his chest. The truth, the _shame_ of them was crushing-

“You can.” Kuro crouched, sandals whispering softly against the sand. 

Kuro didn’t, couldn’t understand the hideous feeling roiling thickly in Daiki’s chest, the way his breath hitched in fear each time a wave lightly ghosted over his hip-

“What’s your favorite food?” Kuro suddenly asked. 

Daiki paused once more, brows furrowing in genuine confusion at the random question. 

“What?”

“Mine is dango,” Kuro said as he stood and walked forward into the water, stepping slowly and broadcasting his movements to show he meant no harm. When he was no more than a foot away, he offered Daiki his hand. 

Daiki took it. 

“I like dango, too.” 

Kuro’s hand wasn’t much larger than Daiki’s. For a moment, he wondered just how old Kuro was. He had never really thought about it before. Kuro was about as tall as some of the Genin that weeded the orphanage’s garden, and Daiki knew they were about twelve. Daiki followed as Kuro returned to the depth Daiki had reached before he retreated. 

“I like the dango from Mr. Souma’s stand.” 

He had never had the dango from the popular and better known Dango Shop as it was only open during the day, but he was sure even if he had he would like Mr. Souma’s dango more. 

“I’ve never had it, we’ll have to try it sometime.” 

Daiki then registered that the water was at his chin, and he was briefly floored when the realization didn’t send him into hysterics. The feeling of fear had completely abated. As he searched for it, he found it shriveled beneath a curious feeling that wholly encompassed his core, one that was being fed by Kuro’s presence. He prodded the feeling. _Safe_ , it murmured. _Protected_. It filled him with soothing warmth, a parental like presence that banished monsters from closets and under beds.

Daiki sat with Kuro safely on the shore, watching as the river drifted lazily by. _Fear_ sat once more in his chest, but it was a weak thing, less potent, declawed.

“Thank you, Kuro.” 

“Itachi.” 

Daiki started in surprise, almost certain he had imagined the name that just escaped his companion’s mouth. He tested it on his tongue.

“Thank you, Itachi-san.”

“Itachi.” Daiki didn’t even try to fight the grin that stole his face.

“Itachi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment if you can. If you have any suggestions, please feel free to offer them!


	3. Beating Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is time to learn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go guys!

"Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory."

-Dr. Seuss

Daiki was tired.

For the past couple weeks he had been curbing his nocturnal tendencies at Itachi’s insistence to prepare for admittance to the shinobi academy. For every three consecutive days he woke with the sun and stayed up for at least six hours, Itachi would buy him a stick of dango.

Daiki didn’t get free dango very often. Waking up is hard.

Scrubbing his face with both hands, the six year old resisted the urge to yawn for the nth time that day. He was achingly aware of the deep purple bags under his eyes, and could almost feel them. The first time he went to Mr. Souma’s before noon, the man had given him a stick of dango on the house with the order to go straight to sleep afterwards. If one more person asked him if he “should be up” he was going to break something. Or scream. Or crawl into bed forever after cursing the sun for its belligerent nature. 

Instead of doing any of that, Daiki chose to go on walks. The fact that those walks usually turned into cat naps in sunny patches of training fields was no skin off Daiki’s nose. It was, however, dango off his plate. Daiki fought another yawn, this time losing the battle. He yawned so hard his jaw popped. 

From where he was tucked beneath the Yamanaka flower shop awning, Daiki watched the pedestrian foot traffic and felt… detached. A vague sense of being both over and underwhelmed. There were a lot of emotions to process, but experience led Daiki to reflexively defend himself from them. Now other people’s emotions hit his shield and ran off thickly like egg yolk. They still bothered him, but in the way it bothered someone to get a smudge on their glasses. 

It was fixable. Manageable.

It didn’t take long for Daiki to realize that for how singularly unique a person was, they were also incredibly unoriginal. Being able to look at someone and know the innermost workings of their heart was as much a gift as it was a curse. With emotional understanding came emotional maturity, which was something your average six year old didn’t possess. In actuality, it was something your average human didn’t truly possess. 

Perhaps that was why Daiki liked ninjas so much and aspired to be one. Good ninjas kept their emotions to themselves. Even mediocre ninjas had a better sense of self awareness than the average Konoha civilian. 

Speaking of Konoha civilians, there was a man polishing an outdoor sword display across the street. And a child running after a dog. Daiki watched almost in slow motion as the child bumped the table housing the rack of wickedly sharp swords, the top most sword eeking loose on one end and coming down in a gleaming arc for the child’s head. 

No one was going to make it in time. 

Daiki ignored the shrapnel sharp bursts of _shock_ and _fear_ from bystanders and zeroed in on the child’s innocent inattention, her lack of _fear_. She had no idea the danger she was in and that only served Daiki’s purpose. 

He was able to push away other’s emotions all the time as though they were physical objects. 

What if he _pulled_? 

He had no time for further thought. From across the street, Daiki reached for the bubbling, fluttering _happy_ of the other kid and yanked in a sudden, desperate movement. He pulled the child towards himself not unlike how one would jerk a yoyo to get it to return to their hand. 

The girl stumbled in Daiki’s direction, shock coloring her features. It wasn’t much, but it was enough that the sword whistled past her ear rather than through her eye. It was enough. 

People were now chastising the girl and vendor in equal measures but Daiki didn’t care. His mind was reeling. The chunk of _happy_ he had torn off the child was nestling itself deeper into his core, as though seeking comfort. The piece was minuscule but entirely present. 

Had he just done that? 

He wrestled the foreign happiness to the front of his core, where it sloughed off reluctantly before drifting away. By the time it was completely gone, Daiki was almost panting in effort, with sweat beading on his forehead and upper lip and his limbs shaking subtly. His eyes refused to focus. He felt like he’d overextended himself, strained an invisible muscle deep inside himself. He wasn’t going to try that again for a long, long time. 

Maybe a year. 

Maybe half.

He wanted a nap. 

_6 Years - Present_

Daiki lightly traced the carved letters with his fingers. _Ueno Masumi._ She had been a Chunin of Konohagakure, killed in an altercation on the border of Fire and Grass country. She was a loving mother who left behind a cherished three year old son. She was a retired ninja that returned to active duty to serve her village that was still rebuilding its forces after the Kyuubi Attack. Her skills were rusty after her three year long maternity leave. 

Now she was a name carved on a stone. 

Daiki knew the facts, knew what he had been told and what he could scarcely remember. If he recited them as mere facts, they didn’t hurt nearly as bad. 

Daiki traced the names above and below his mother’s. The memorial stone held the names of many people’s cherished loved ones. Brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers. Being a ninja was a dangerous job, but being a civilian was no better. 

It was a dangerous world. 

Daiki thought back to the ninja that came to the orphanage for recruitment a few months ago. Shiny jutsu, the pretty words that proclaimed the “Will of Fire”; these were the things they advertised. 

He could see the sparks of hope in his fellow orphans’ eyes, feel the crackle of _excitement, wonder_ in the air _._ These children, who yearned to be accepted and loved, offered a chance to become “heroes”. Many would be enrolling for the upcoming semester, Daiki among them (though for what he liked to tell himself were completely different reasons). 

He let his hand fall to his side as he felt a presence appear behind him. When he turned, he was greeted with a man in a face mask, a shock of silver hair and a wave of _tired, lonely, jaded_. It was a familiar aura, he felt it in many orphans. The ones who had been left behind by those they loved. 

Without thinking, Daiki brushed his chakra against the man’s as he walked by, just as he occasionally did with his fellow orphans to make their presence more tolerable. _Hope,_ he gave. _Happy_. The man’s chakra flooded with surprise and Daiki ducked his head embarrassedly. It seemed he was too used to dealing with the underdeveloped chakra of children, of course a seasoned ninja would recognize foreign emotions for what they were. 

Still… Daiki glanced at the man who, while shocked, felt less _defeated_ than before. Perhaps they could appreciate them just as well. He felt the man shake off his accidental offering and emit a wave of _wary_ that sent a trill of _fear_ down Daiki’s spine. 

He offered the man a slight bow before he continued away. 

Daiki sighed. 

If he wanted to go to the ninja academy, then he couldn’t keep up his nocturnal schedule. But he couldn’t sleep surrounded by a bunch of children… People’s emotions are more active during sleep than one might think. He could still remember the time one of his fellow orphans had had a nightmare in Daiki’s presence. The poor boy’s terror had been so intense that experiencing it secondhand had made Daiki wet the bed. Never again would he allow that to happen. Maybe he could apply for an apartment? But where would he get the money? He could probably get some money running errands, tending gardens, but wasn’t that what D-ranks were for? 

Frustrated, Daiki kicked a rock.

“Hey, what was that for!” 

Maybe he could get a roommate. One other person was better than twenty. The problem with that was, who would want to room with a six year old kid? Daiki wanted to kick something again but settled for sitting down and cradling his head in his hands. He could always catch up on sleep… in the library? During class? He didn’t want to give people the wrong impression-

“Hey teme! I’m talking to you!” Daiki glanced up. Uzumato Naruki? Wait no, it was Uzumaki Naruto, wasn’t it? What was he doing here? Daiki finally took in his surroundings. He seemed to have wandered into an empty training ground. 

Well, empty aside from Naruto. 

That was dangerous, he could have gotten injured if someone had been seriously training. Besides, Daiki didn’t know how he could have missed Naruto in the first place. The kid’s emotions were all over the place, yelling at Daiki, just as the blonde was. He didn’t need to be an empath to know Uzumaki was _hurt, angry, curious… hopeful_? Hopeful? Beneath all of Naruto’s obvious emotions was a smidgen of _hope_ , weak like a starved puppy with its tail between its legs. What could Daiki have that Naruto wanted? Daiki hadn’t even seen Naruto for a few weeks since he left the orphanage and got his… own apartment… 

Daiki looked up from his brief period of reflection to see that Naruto had crouched down beside him and was staring rather grumpily at his face. The boy was practically on top of him. Daiki scooted back a bit.

“Hi, Uzumaki-san.” Daiki winced internally. That was awkward. He was awkward. Oh boy. 

“Sorry about…” He trailed off. What was Naruto upset about? Daiki quickly scanned the area, then Naruto. Then the impressive bruise blossoming across Naruto’s jaw. Daiki put two and two together and winced externally. “The rock.” 

The shock that unfurled around Naruto at Daiki’s apology made Daiki more guilty than the thing he was actually apologizing for. The boy’s mood did a quick flip that almost took Daiki’s breath away. 

“Oh, heh, no biggie.” Naruto rubbed the back of his head and offered Daiki a hesitant smile, which Daiki couldn’t help but return. Naruto’s happiness was contagious. Daiki watched the _anger, hurt_ bleed away, _cheeky, happy_ taking its place in between blinks. Naruto was easy to please, then. 

Inspired, Daiki reached into his yukata and pulled out two packages of senbei. From what he could remember, Naruto wasn’t a bad kid, other kids just didn’t like him because… Well, Daiki didn’t actually know. He spent most of his time around children sleeping, after all. Until recently, that is. Something about a demon? A monster? It didn’t matter to Daiki really, as long as he kept whatever it was to himself. 

“Sorry.” He said again, offering the other boy a rice cracker while taking a bite of his own. 

Naruto took the cracker after a brief pause, an emotion flickering across his face that was too quick to catch. It lingered at his core though. _Wonder._ Daiki could recognize that emotion in a heartbeat, felt it often enough looking through the library’s astrology section. It was one of his favorite sections. That Naruto could feel wonder at someone showing him a small kindness… That was sad. 

“I’m Ueno Daiki, it’s nice to meet you.” 

The _wonder_ increased as Naruto grinned broadly and introduced himself in turn, proclaiming he was “Going to be the next hokage, believe it!” Daiki felt something small inside of him shift. 

The boys ate their crackers in peace, Daiki humming softly. 

“What’s that song?” Daiki blushed slightly as Naruto once again invaded his personal space.

“Just something I heard in a dream.” 

Naruto looked at him with his head cocked to one side and made a thoughtful noise that was kind of endearing. 

“A dream, huh?” Daiki nodded. “Do you remember the words?” _Yes_. 

“Nope.” Naruto’s nose scrunched in consideration. Daiki thought the expression looked rather painful.

“You’re kinda weird, huh?” Daiki gently pushed Naruto back so the other boy fell to his bottom and out of Daiki’s personal bubble. 

“I could say the same about you.” Naruto laughed heartily, even though Daiki didn’t think what he said was all that funny. “Say Uzumaki-san, I haven’t seen you around the orphanage lately. What’s up with that?”

“Oh! Old man Hokage got me an apartment! Said that it would help me focus on my studies at the academy or whatever, believe it!” Old man, huh? And Naruto was yelling again. Daiki resisted the urge to cover his ears. 

“I’m going to the academy this year too.”

“Really! I didn’t peg you as the kind of kid to want to be a ninja…” Naruto trailed off.

“Oh? And why is that?” Daiki intoned, genuinely curious. He watched as the other boy floundered for a moment before he seemed to resign himself to some fate, hunching his shoulders and scratching his cheek.

“Well, I mean… you’re sick, right?” Naruto’s tone reminded Daiki of one the orphanage matrons trying to explain common knowledge to a particularly dense toddler, and it threw Daiki for a loop. That’s what people thought? That he was sick? Did everyone think that?

“That’s not exactly correct…” Nor was it incorrect. When you boiled it down, his ability was nothing more than a hypersensitivity to chakra, wasn’t it? No, he wasn’t ill, he had a Kekkei Genkai. But it wasn’t like he could tell Naruto that without telling him what it was. “I’m just… chakra sensitive.” Daiki waited for Naruto to call him out on his half truth, _deceit_ settling over his core like a film of oil on water.

“That’s a relief!” Naruto grinned at him like the sun and Daiki felt a flash of something. Unease? No, that wasn’t right. The feeling was gone before he could identify it. Then Naruto rubbed the back of his head in that sheepish way and the feeling roiled his stomach, returning at full force. _Deja vu_. 

He knew that grin. Something in him recognized the grin, along with the blond hair and whisker marks. Now came the _unease_. Daiki laid back, burying both unwelcome feelings deep within his core. It didn’t matter what Naruto reminded him of, he told himself. Naruto was his own person.

And suddenly Daiki felt guilty. Naruto was a person, not a tool to be manipulated into benefiting others. Here Daiki was, plotting, while Naruto sat innocently by his side talking excitedly about- Daiki listened for a moment… his house plants? 

Daiki felt the wind leave his sails, in that moment feeling much too old, as though he was sixty and not six. He was going to have to stop running someday, deal with the problem other children posed rather than simply avoid them. Solve his problem with strength and not distance. Maybe Naruto could help him? What better way to start than exposure? Making a friend. He realized this was the longest conversation he had had with a kid his age… ever. He wondered if it was the same for Naruto.

“Naruto-san, could you do me a favor?” If possible, the boy became even more animated.

“What is it, huh? I can do whatever it is ya need me to do, believe it!” The boy’s enthusiasm about everything made Daiki tired. He wanted a nap. Still, he pressed on. He could help them both.

“Do you- uh.” Why was he so nervous? “Do you want to hang out tomorrow? Maybe be friends?”

His question was met with silence, and Daiki mentally berated himself. Awkward. Stupid. He was so-

“Yes! Oh man, wait until I tell Old Man Hokage!” Naruto kept talking, shouting, but Daiki was lost in his own thoughts once more. Naruto had said yes. He watched as the boy jumped up as he continued to yell. The _happyhappyhappy_ pouring out of Naruto was nothing short of breathtaking. The kid was as happy as Daiki had ever seen anyone. But… 

He watched the other boy hop up and down, saying something about ramen and frogs.

But Naruto was also _sad_ and _lonely_ . Terribly so, deep down to the base of his core. Even as the boy smiled and danced around, Daiki could feel a tendril of _sorrow_ reaching out to prod the barrier of _happy_ Daiki kept wrapped around his core.

Instead of retreating as he normally would, Daiki slapped the feeling away as though it were a naughty child’s hand reaching for an extra cookie. He could work with this. If Naruto was sad, Daiki would help him to be happy.

After all, what were friends for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I will try to update once a week from now on.


	4. Interlude: Wistful Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Go hug your mama.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys don't mind a quick interlude while I put the finishing touches on the next chapter!

"You're everywhere

except right here

and it hurts."

\- Rupi Kaur

The thing Daiki remembered most about his mother was her kind eyes. Warm and brown, they were full of love, even towards the end when her shoulders had been tightened with nerves and anxiety over leaving him. Looking now in the mirror, he could trace her influence in his own features. His eye shape was distinctively hers. Their coloring, however, was something unique to him alone.

In his six years of life he had yet to run into another individual with eyes the same shade of gold that he possessed. If their color alone hadn’t been enough to set him apart then the shape of his pupils would be. They were slitted- almost like a snake. If it wasn’t for the soft, almost girlish, quality of the rest of his features they might have made him look rather terrifying. As it was, he looked about as intimidating as a grass snake. 

He hadn’t thought that he had inherited his mother’s warm complexion but his skin had lost its deathly paleness a few weeks after his abandonment of his nocturnal schedule. Mere hours in the sun were all it took for his mother’s signature freckles to bloom across his face and shoulders, as though they were flowers and sunshine was the missing ingredient for their success.

He twirled a lock of dark, almost black, hair around his finger. He hadn’t had a haircut in years and it showed, his hair almost reaching his elbows. It was darker than his mother’s had been and the texture was completely different. Whereas her mahogany brown hair had had a prominent curl and shown red in the sun, his black locks were pin straight and flared a much deeper plum color when the sun hit them  _ just  _ right. While something deep within him argued that hair couldn’t be purple naturally, he could distinctly remember spotting a young girl around the village with light pink hair, which in Daiki’s opinion was a much more questionable color. 

Daiki smoothed his thumb over the smattering of freckles under his left eye and smiled in bittersweet reminiscence, feeling a lump of  _ longing _ tighten his throat and build behind his eyes. He  _ missed _ her. The word “miss” didn’t even come close to describe how much he just wanted her to be by his side. He was coming to terms with the fact that the hurt would never really go away. Just dull over time from scraping at his insides, like a blade against bone. Dull until the sharp pangs of longing became a familiar ache and he didn’t cry when he thought of her too late in the night.

Taking a deep breath in to quell the wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him, Daiki remembered why he was scrutinizing his reflection in the first place. He picked up the kunai he had sharpened just for this purpose and got straight to task. Grabbing thick sections of hair at random, he sawed haphazardly through them before moving onto the next piece, filling his sink with hair. It was more fun than it had any reason to be. When he finished he swiftly appraised his work in the mirror before nodding in satisfaction and rushing off to finish the rest of his morning routine.

“What happened? Who did this to you?” After staring at Daiki in his own stiff lipped version of abject horror (his eyes had widened minutely) for almost a full minute, Itachi had crouched before him with a serious expression, his emotions taking on a protective sheen.

Daiki would have been touched if he wasn’t so offended.

“I did it myself.” He tucked a lock of newly shoulder length hair behind his ear self consciously. Sure the cut was rather jagged and his inspired attempt to give himself bangs left something to be desired but-

It was pretty bad. 

It was horrendous, actually.

Itachi made his “if I was any less dignified I’d say oh no” face. 

“You’re being dramatic.” Daiki was almost certain he was the first to ever call the older boy such and had to bite his lip to keep from snickering at Itachi’s resulting pinched expression of displeasure. 

“Your first day of the academy is tomorrow.” A trill of anxiety lanced down Daiki’s spine. He knew that. It had been the motivation for the impromptu haircut in the first place.

“Is it really?” They sat silently in the wake of Daiki’s sass for a moment before Itachi got to his feet, scooping Daiki up and resting him on his hip in one smooth motion without a word. 

Daiki could only cling tightly, shielding his eyes from the wind against Itachi’s shoulder as they raced through the trees and then across rooftops. Soon enough the wind died down and Daiki opened his eyes to find himself in the entryway of what appeared to be a large, traditional style house. Itachi tugged Daiki’s sandals off his feet before he could think to protest, removing his own shoes and striding confidently into the house as though he owned the place. 

“Mother?” Itachi called softly, finally setting Daiki on his own feet. 

Oh. 

Daiki froze as a woman peaked around the corner and welcomed Itachi home, her presence suffusing the air in steady waves of  _ comfort _ and  _ love.  _ Even though the feelings weren’t directed at him Daiki soaked them up almost greedily, feeling a slightly dopey, blissed-out grin grow on his face. It lasted until he realized Itachi and his mother had been having a conversation over his head and Daiki had missed the entirety of it. Itachi’s mother had approached without his noticing and was smiling down at him as though he had done something amusing, no,  _ endearing _ . He couldn’t imagine what it was. 

“I can definitely do something about this.” She said, her eyes creasing happily as she leaned down and ran a hand through the choppy disaster that was his hair, broadcasting her movements so he could move away if he wanted to. He couldn’t think of anything he currently wanted to do less. He felt like a deaf man hearing music for the first time in years. “Would you like that, Daiki-kun?”

Daiki felt himself nod, unable to resist leaning into her hand as it lingered on his cheek. 

Daiki stayed for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I would like to give an especially heartfelt thank you to everyone who has left a comment on this work so far. Your words and support mean so much to me and are incredibly inspiring. This chapter is for you guys!  
> If my description of Daiki didn't do it for you, just picture Ed from Cowboy Bebop with dark straight hair, freckles, and snake pupils. That's what I do.  
> My summer courses end next week, so I should be able to update more regularly in the future. Thank you for your patience!


	5. Dear Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can tell that we are gonna be friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, I missed this.

"And suddenly you know: it's time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings."

\- Meister Eckhart

The second hand nerves and tension from the children surrounding him danced across his skin like an army of the creepiest crawlies imaginable. Apparently no amount of exposure therapy to the crowds on the streets of Konoha could prepare him for the tumultuous emotions of a tide of children and their parents standing before their Hokage. 

In the light of the day, Itachi cut a very different figure. In the night his stoic nature lent him to be imposing, his Anbu mask cementing a rather intimidating visage. Standing beside his brother a few feet away, Itachi looked like a child. A very tired child whose face betrayed none of his emotions, which for once were rabbiting away under his skin. There was a great deal of _agitation_ and _worry_ , tight like sunburned skin, traced with a complementary undercurrent of _anger_ , as though adding the warmth to the burn. 

Daiki watched Itachi adjust his grip on his younger brother’s hand and felt a rare wave of guilt for using his ability, as though he had been snooping through something private. He supposed most emotions were private things, though. As he pulled himself out of his ponderings he realized he had missed a propaganda filled speech designed to manipulate his little orphan heart’s longing for acceptance and belonging into loyalty to a deceitfully grandfatherly looking military dictator. 

Pity.

Daiki didn’t bother to clap along with the crowd, simply raising his hands a few inches apart in front of his chest so that it looked like he was doing so. So focused was he on not clapping, he didn’t realize someone was sneaking up behind him until it was too late. 

“Umeboshi!” 

Only one person called him that. A chest collided with his back and arms wrapped around his waist in a vice grip. In his shock, his hands touched. 

Ah. He failed. 

Did one clap count as clapping?

He wasn’t sure. 

He greeted Naruto with a light squeeze to one of the arms around his middle, feeling the kid’s whirlpool of emotions calm slightly.

“Umeboshi, which dude do ya think is our sensei, huh?” Naruto pointed over Daiki’s shoulder to the figures standing to the Hokage’s right, presumably academy instructors. 

“Whichever one looks most like a dolphin, I guess.” He felt more than heard Naruto snicker, the vibration buzzing through both of their chests. 

He held in his inner nag that wanted to tell Naruto pointing was rude and not to call their sensei “dude”. Another time, when there weren’t several heads turned in their- Naruto’s- direction and openly scowling. When he wasn’t trying to distract Naruto from people pulling their children closer, from avoiding them like lepers. He dragged his protective _happy_ shield over to cocoon Naruto as well and felt the boy perk up even further. 

One of the unhappy faces cast their way belonged to none other than Uchiha Sasuke. Daiki couldn’t pick Sasuke’s emotions out of the crowd due to distance and unfamiliarity with the boy, but from the occasional glare he’d sent Daiki’s way throughout the assembly, it wasn’t hard to make an educated guess as to what they might be. The other boy had spent the majority of last night emitting waves of _jealousy_ and _dislike_ towards Daiki, nasty faces when he thought Itachi wasn’t looking. The boy had “accidentally” spilt a puddle of soy sauce on the table that had soaked the sleeve of Daiki’s yukata, steaming when Daiki didn’t react. His plan had backfired completely when Mikoto had noticed the stain and lent him something of Sasuke’s to wear while she got it out.

It was cute.

“Gramps sure blabbed a bunch just now. Did ya catch anything he said?”

Speaking of cute. 

“Not a word.” 

They found their classroom with relative ease, taking seats in the back, closest to the windows. Daiki watched Itachi say goodbye to Sasuke at the door with blank eyes and a heavy heart. Itachi had to pretend he didn’t know Daiki in public. Daiki technically wasn’t supposed to know Itachi at all. If he was in the habit of lying to himself, he would say it didn’t affect him, that it wasn’t a big deal. 

(It wasn’t a big deal, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.)

Daiki slid paper and a pencil over to Naruto when he noticed the other boy hadn’t brought any materials and mimed taking notes as Iruka-sensei called for the attention of any lingering parents at the front of the room. The seat to his left was suddenly filled in a tangle of limbs and a soft dog yip.

There was a boy with a puppy on his head. 

_Why not?_

The boy had a rather feral, slightly mean look to him, but he read as a mixture of _nervous, eager,_ and _playful._ Daiki knew the signature of a mischief maker when he saw it, what with the Chief of Mischief sitting to his left. Being boxed in between the two boys was a sensation similar to being shaken excitedly back and forth. 

Oh wait. He placed a hand over the one gripping his shoulder.

“Yes, Naruto?”

“Hey, hey, Umeboshi, what am I supposed to write down?”

“Anything you don’t wanna forget.” He heard Naruto make a thoughtful noise as Puppy Boy leaned in with a curious look that softened his features.

“Is your name Umeboshi?” 

No, his mother didn’t name him after a food. Not that there was anything wrong with that.

“Ueno Daiki.” He stated, pointing to himself. _Me caveman. Me awkward._ He threw his thumb over his shoulder. “Uzumaki Naruto.” Naruto tacked on an enthusiastic “Believe it!” to the end of their introduction. Puppy Boy wasn’t phased, simply grinning lopsidedly. His teeth were fascinatingly pointy. 

“Inuzuka Kiba. Why does he call you Umeboshi?” 

Naruto leaned past Daiki with a serious face, as though he was about to impart grave wisdom.

“He looks sweet, but he’s not. Also, his hair’s purple.”

Kiba solemnly nodded as though this made all the sense in the world.

Daiki resigned himself to his fate and slid his new friend a sheet of paper and pencil at his sheepish, fanged grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment with a scene suggestion this time if you want.  
> I know this chapter is short. I'm going to try posting shorter chapters, hopefully frequently. Fear that my writing somehow wasn't good enough snagged a hold of me during my hiatus and I was finally able to beat it off with a stick today!  
> Thank you everyone for your support. I promise this story will never be abandoned.


	6. Burning Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which lessons are learned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, lovelies. How are we today? This is the second day in a row I'm posting a chapter at 3 am.

"Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured."

\- Mark Twain

For Daiki, human emotion was a very physical thing. He couldn’t imagine it as anything else. _Agitation_ buzzed, _anger_ burned, _sadness_ was hollow. These weren’t things he felt with his physical body, however. 

In the library he’d memorized the body's chakra pathways and tenketsu points. The chakra system runs throughout the body alongside one’s circulatory system. It draws energy from the body’s cells, refining it into chakra. The majority of one’s chakra was stored in one's core. For most, this core resides below the diaphragm. What made empaths special was their core residing in their hearts. When he’d tried to find more information he’d been told it was “above his clearance level”. 

(It didn’t really matter. He could figure out the rest through trial and error. 

Experimentation.)

When gauging the temperature of something you can reach out and touch it, yes, but if it’s strong enough you can feel it from a distance. Daiki’s ability was like that in a way. 

Some people, civilians especially, broadcasted their emotions like a fire emitted warmth. Daiki received them similarly. When standing next to a fire you don’t choose to be warm, you don’t have to accept warmth in, it just happens. 

With others it was like a pot left on the stove. Was it still hot? You could touch it and find out. 

And Daiki could. 

Touch, that is. 

Touch to soothe. Touch to agitate. He could choose, like petting a cat forwards or backwards to yield separate results. 

He could also blanket his emotions over others, smother their true emotions beneath his. This was different than directly influencing them, more false and unnatural. It didn’t stick and depended on his proximity and concentration. People tended to notice if he wasn’t subtle enough. He often tried to pair his ability with words or actions so that people thought the emotions were their own and they were being comforted or riled up naturally. 

The thing about touching, however, was the danger of getting _burned_.

Like now.

“I don’t get it.” Naruto’s brow furrowed in his _frustration_ and his chakra followed, bunching up and tying itself in knots. 

Daiki sat up from where he’d been slumped on the floor beside Naruto, dozing. They were currently in Naruto’s apartment. After helping him clean it up it wasn’t half bad. Real groceries hadn't hurt either. 

“What don’t you get?” He clumsily rubbed Naruto’s back with one hand, using the other to cover a yawn. With each passing of his hand he unfurled a bit of Naruto’s _frustration_ but it was like trying to drain a lake with a juice glass. 

It wasn’t Naruto’s fault he needed so much help. So many of his developmental milestones had been missed due to his systemic neglect. With no one to give him positive reinforcement, to read to him or teach him, to talk him down from tantrums when he got frustrated, why should he bother? It didn’t come naturally to him. Learning was a chore.

Daiki was pretty used to helping Naruto with his homework by now, both through tutoring and with his ability. He could help keep Naruto _focused_ , keep him from getting _discouraged_ long enough for him to actually learn something. It was a system that was working quite well, and lately he’d been trying to ease off and only help to reinforce and support, so that Naruto could grow on his own as well. Like the chopstick they had given Mr. Ukki the other day to help him grow straight. 

It had been _working_. 

It showed in his grades and class performance. The good results spurred Naruto to try even harder, to pay attention in class, take his own notes. 

It _had_ been working.

Today had been rough. During sparring Sasuke had taken Naruto down in seconds with bruising and unnecessarily hard strikes. He’d even smirked at Daiki after he’d done it, as Naruto struggled to rise from the dirt. His training with Itachi seemed to be paying off. He wasn’t the only one, however, and Daiki showed him this with a vengeance during their bout, though he had felt guilty about it almost immediately after. When they were walking back to Naruto’s place they hadn’t caught a break, a bottle flying out of nowhere that they had only dodged by sheer force of luck, hurled with the same ferocity as the word “ _monster”_.

Stupid Sasuke. Stupid hateful village.

“Why… Why does- Why can’t-” Naruto cut himself off with a growl as he let his pencil fall out of his hand so he could clench his fists and pound them against his skull. It rolled off the table and Daiki heard it clatter to the ground as he scooted closer to Naruto so they were hip to hip. He leaned against the other boy’s side, hoping his presence would ground him as he considered switching from his soothing to his blanketing tactic. 

Lately he’d been worrying if he was becoming something of a crutch for Naruto, impeding him from developing his own emotional control-

Just as Daiki started to stretch out to blanket Naruto, the boy’s emotions spiked viciously, _frustration_ bleeding sharp and fast into _anger_ , which teetered on the edge of _rage_. It was hard to describe the pain, not everything feels like something else. Daiki’s shield had been down (Stupid) as it normally was around Naruto (He was so careless).

He wonders if his mom were still here if she would have taught him of the dangers, ways to keep himself safe. 

He wishes he didn’t always have to learn by falling head first into the flames. 

Hot. 

Blisteringly hot.

Like boiling water- no- oil splashed directly onto skin.

Daiki wanted to physically recoil, curl into a ball and whimper, but at the last second he threw himself towards Naruto instead, throwing his arms around the hurting boy. Recoiling would solve nothing, maybe only make matters worse if Naruto thought he was being rejected. Tears filled his eyes and tumbled freely down his cheeks as the pain spiked.

He couldn’t tell the other boy it was okay (it wasn’t), that things would get better (maybe they would but those were such empty words). He racked his brain for something to say, something to help, and to his horror _the nightmare_ surged to the surface. He fought to push it down frantically until he realized what it was offering. He buried his face in Naruto’s shoulder and started to ghost his shield across Naruto’s skin, disregarding where the shield began to grow thin and flake off, as though it were getting eaten away by flame. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

 _Peace, brother_.

He started to sing.

" _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine."_

The nightmare rose up and Daiki embraced it. Snatches of a stranger’s face, smiling down at him, confusing and strange and _warm_. A strange room filled with stuffed animals, bright colors. A hand smoothing back his hair. 

_"You_ _make me happy when skies are gray."_

It hurt. Grief for a woman he didn’t know, for this stranger, built in his chest and his tears fell in earnest. But the emotions were _not mine not mine notminenotmine- Mom!_

 _"You’ll never know dear, how much I love you."_

It was working. He felt Naruto relaxing against him, the _rage_ petering out into a bone weary _tiredness_ and a subtle _curiosity_. The burning didn’t stop.

“Please don’t take my sunshine away.” 

His voice was weak on the last line, barely a whisper. He still burned. His shield continued to smolder and flake away. There was the faintest flicker curled in his core. He cracked his eyes open. A glance at his skin showed none of the carnage. 

He felt coated in ash.

“I thought you said you didn’t remember the words.”

He had to clear his throat before speaking, fearful his reply would come out as a sob. 

“Sorry. Just didn't wan' ta 'member.” Daiki's words were slurring. He was so tired. Fuzzy. Almost like he was severely dehydrated. He felt like he had run around the village fifty times on a hot summer day. Naruto was okay for now it seemed, mostly full of honeyed _fondness_ for his perpetually sleepy friend, and-

It hurt to screen Naruto. The feeling came sluggishly, shakily, like an overused limb.

“My mama taught me that song.” The words weren't his own but they came out of his lips. Daiki was scared to fall asleep- What was wrong with him?

Daiki fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this angst? Does this qualify as angst? o-o  
> Everything is going to be okay.


	7. Learning Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A setback doesn't necessarily have to be a bad thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovelies. Sorry it's been so long.

_"Recovery is a process. It takes time. It takes patience. It takes everything you've got."_

_\- Unknown_

______ hated dropping his brother off at the airport. Hated that he'd_ _chosen to go to a fancy, expensive, out of state school without earning a single scholarship to ease the way. Jerk didn’t even seem to recognize how the new financial strain was affecting Mom, just flouncing off to parties with his friends to celebrate graduation._

______ was startled from his mental rant by the slamming of the trunk. His brother approached the driver’s side window with a megawatt grin, posture as loose and self assured as always, suitcase in hand._

_Anger is a secondary emotion. _____ exhaled harshly from his nose, unclenching both his jaw and his fists from the steering wheel._

_______ was jealous. Definitely hurt._

_He didn’t have to be angry._

_“Have a good semester, Ethan. Stay safe.” _____ meant it, he really did._

_“What, no hug?”_

______ sighed exaggeratedly as he exited the car to hug his brother. When they separated Ethan left a hand on _____’s shoulder, thumb digging into the meat under his collar bone._

_“Take care of mom for me, yeah? Make sure she doesn’t work too hard.”_

How?

_“‘Course.” _____ could tell there was more Ethan wanted to say, could practically feel the pent up emotions radiating from his uncharacteristically furrowed brow._

_“Listen-”_

_But _____ wasn’t feeling very understanding or forgiving today. He shrugged off Ethan’s grip and got back into his Dodge._

_Mom was sick._

_“What do you mean you’re not coming down?” _____ bit his lip in frustration, closing his eyes and pressing his thumb to his temple to stave off his growing stress headache as Ethan rambled off some excuse about some sport event that weekend. “I know this isn’t the first time. I just can’t do this by myself, Ethan. Did you know they asked me if mom had a will? A will, Ethan!”_

_Ethan said he’d be there Monday._

_“Don’t bother.”_

_Mom asked after Ethan everyday._

_With one of Ethan's old sport hoodies hiding his lacking physique and one of his signature ratty caps worn low over his eyes, _____ looked just like him._

_They were twins after all._

"Are you seriously not coming?"

Read 4:37 PM. 

______ scowled at his reflection before exiting the ensuite bathroom. He took his mother's hand in his, running his thumb over her knuckles._

_Glassy eyes opened._

_"I knew you'd come."_

_Something fiery stirred in _____'s chest, pressed behind his eyes, caught in his throat._

_"I got here as soon as I could."_

_Three blood clots in her lungs._

_Not one._

_Three._

_The paramedic who made the call not to air lift his mom to the hospital came by while _____ was white knuckling her cooling hand to apologize. It was the first time he had had an actually dying person in his ambulance._

_He was sorry. _____ forgave him._

_It was _____’s fault anyway. That morning when he checked on his mom in her room and she was unresponsive he had assumed she had taken a few too many pain pills and needed to sleep it off again. He had debated calling an ambulance but had gone to work instead, wary of the cost of another hospital visit and losing his job if he was late. If she was still unresponsive when he got back, he’d take her himself._

_It was a neighbor that called the ambulance._

______ pressed a kiss to the back of his mom’s hand before setting it to gently rest on her stomach._

_He tried Ethan’s cell again._

_Voicemail._

-

When Daiki woke up, he felt some horrible combination of blind and deaf. Maybe he had also lost his sense of touch. 

No, that couldn’t be right. 

He could see the off white ceiling above him, hear the horrible, somehow familiar hospital din around him, feel the starchy sheets beneath his hands.

He looked to his left and saw Itachi, heard him ask how he was feeling. 

_Feeling_.

He couldn’t _feel_ Itachi. He didn’t catch what Itachi said next because it didn’t matter. There was an unconscious lump of a man lying in a bed across the room and Daiki couldn’t feel him either. Couldn’t even tell if he was having a bad or good dream, if he was even dreaming at all. He looked back to Itachi, whose eyes were slightly squinted, his brow furrowed more than usual. 

In worry? Frustration? Anger? 

Daiki didn’t know. He felt absolutely nothing from Itachi. It was like Itachi was _dead_. It was like he was _dead-_

There was sensation on both his hands and his chest. Itachi was holding one of Daiki’s hands to each of their sternums, taking deep, even breaths. His hand was warm and Daiki didn’t question what was going on for a moment, simply relishing in the heartbeat he could feel thrumming beneath his fingers. He gripped a fistful of the stiff material of Itachi’s shirt tightly, just to feel the extra bit of sensation, before letting it go. Itachi guided his hand back towards his stomach rather than letting it flop weakly between them.

Daiki tried to raise his arm again but only succeeded in getting his fingers to twitch. He felt soreness travel up his forearm.

Itachi smoothed out Daiki’s sheets.

-

As soon as Itachi felt the flicker of the Kyuubi’s chakra, he shuushined from his cover across the street to the window sill of the jinchuriki's apartment. It was barely there, not even a whisper, more like a breath. A choked off one. It probably wasn’t anything to be concerned about, but Daiki was in that room.

Daiki’s chakra signature was incredibly weak and getting weaker. Well that wasn't completely true. The entire room held Daiki's signature, the boy's chakra saturating the walls, blanketing the ground. Naruto himself was enfolded in a thick shroud of it, a veil so dense it was almost visible. Daiki himself, however, contained nothing but dregs, if that.

Itachi had Naruto asleep with a genjustu in the time it took to cross the room. It was the work of seconds to sweep Daiki into his arms and speed back out the window. Severe charka exhaustion. The treatment for it was time to recuperate, though in severe cases-

Daiki stopped breathing. 

Itachi paused for a fraction of a second before resuming his path to the hospital at twice- no ten times his previous speed. Daiki was still using chakra somehow, still expelling it faster than his bodying could produce it. Itachi entered the hospital through the Anbu entrance, where Daiki was immediately whisked away by trauma medic nin equipped to fix Anbu level injuries. Kakashi senpai had chakra exhaustion all the time and escaped the hospital as soon as he could crawl, Daiki was in good hands.

Itachi followed the medic nin, eyes trained on green glowing hands. He had never studied medical ninjutsu extensively, never found the urge, but maybe now he would. No, he definitely would, if only to escape the growing feeling of helplessness surging in his chest as a nin did a finger sweep down Daiki's throat to check for an obstructed airway.

Itachi felt his mouth moving, heard himself report what little he knew about the situation. He heard a call for someone with refined enough chakra control to filter for a transfusion. Itachi jerked out of the way as one of the medical nin hustled over with a series of scrolls and ink, and the nin smoothly took his place in the procession as another smoothly cut down the sleeves of Daiki's favorite lavender kimono to get access to his skin. 

Itachi had heard of someone's lips "turning blue" from lack of oxygen, had been the cause of such a state several times. As he watched the medic nin fight for the small boy's life, he thought they looked rather grey.

Itachi sat by Daiki's bedside. It had been four days already, and the boy had yet to wake up. He had heard it mentioned that Daiki would be moved out of the Anbu unit and into a more comfortable room soon.

As though summoned by Itachi's stray thoughts a few days previous, Kakashi senpai had been deposited in the bed across the room the night before. His reserves where slowly recuperating. The man had accomplished another seemingly impossible (suicidal) mission and returned with his entire squad intact. The only one to sustain serious injury was himself, as was the norm.

Itachi knew what Kakashi senpai was running from, felt his own personal demons grow closer to his heels with every fellow Konoha shinobi needlessly lost. He couldn't throw himself into missions with the same reckless (suicidal) fervor that Kakashi possessed, though.

Not with two baby brothers to take care of.

He wondered briefly what his life in Anbu would have been like if he hadn't been assigned to Daiki's protection and vigilance detail. Back to back missions, perhaps, where he would lose a little more of himself every time. No time for training Sasuke, or to have tea with his father in his office, or for cooking lessons with his mother. He'd have probably never met Daiki, maybe not even in passing.

Maybe that was still his future, once Daiki no longer needed surveillance. 

The thing about victims of chakra exhaustion was that they slept like the dead for the bulk of the recovery process. No tossing or turning, barely breathing as their bodies slowly recuperated its reserves. REM sleep even stops, serial patients reporting a lack of dreams. It's like they vanish and reappear upon awakening.

Itachi scanned Daiki for any signs of movement, taking in the ink trailing down his arms, up the sides of his neck. A Hyuga had been used to map out his chakra system, enough for the rudimentary seals to be applied. It was ugly work, thick, harsh strokes made in haste to save the boys life, but it served its purpose. 

Daiki would have no access to his chraka. It would still be able to cycle freely through his body, but he would be unable to reach it.

His chakra network was extensively damaged. He'd been exposed to the Kyubi's chakra ever so briefly, but it had been enough, much like how a single spark in a forest in drought was enough. He would recover, as the young often miraculously did, but any chakra use before then would be excruciating, so it was best to avoid it. He would still be able to go to class, live his life, he would just have to stick to learning theory and sitting out during spars.

_'That was going to be something.'_

Daiki would have about the strength of a civilian, having normally, even unconsciously, used chakra to reinforce his bones and strengthen his muscles. In time this could perhaps be a boon, as he could improve his physical condition at the base level. Until then, however, he'd have the strength of a normal six year old. He could already hear Sasuke's jeering taunts.

He was going to have to have a talk with that boy soon. Itachi had thought his two brothers would have gotten along well because they were so alike, but it seemed the opposite was the case. He didn't know exactly what had happened to fracture the two's relationship so quickly, but he could hazard a guess. Managing Sasuke's jealously was a dance he normally knew all the steps to, but his usual methods of mitigation hadn't been working in regards to anything to do with Daiki. He would spend more time with Sasuke, offer him just as much, if not more, training as he did the other boy, ply him with savory treats, but it seemed like it would all be for nought once the boy returned to class the next day and so much as made eye contact with Daiki. If Itachi didn't know any better he would think that Sasuke knew Daiki was the son of a village traitor. 

There was no possibility of that, however.

Daiki's response to Sasuke's antagonism would be amusing if Itachi didn't have to deal with the aftermath. If Sasuke was a fist raised to deliver a vicious blow, Daiki was a forearm strike to the wrist. He used redirection and subtle manipulation to steer Sasuke's ire away from him and his little group of friends, responding to Sasuke's shouts with one word responses and eye smiles.

Daiki spoke with his actions.

If Sasuke told him he was going to beat him in sparring that day, Daiki would simply nod and proceed to lay Sasuke out with a few sharp blows. Daiki only ever truly got riled up when Sasuke picked on Naruto, which of course Sasuke noticed. He wasn't stupid. He also wasn't normally mean, which is what confused and concerned Itachi the most.

The pointer finger of Daiki's right hand twitching brought Itachi out of his slight stupor.

He had noticed that the boy had been recovering chakra at a surprising rate, but surely four days was too soon a recovery speed for such a severe state of chakra depletion? As Itachi stood to call for a medical nin, Daiki opened his eyes. Itachi felt how his chakra instantly spiked in fear, heard his breathing speed up and begin to catch. Wide eyes searched the room before finally landing on Itachi, which for some reason was the final push to needed to send Daiki off the edge. 

"You're in Konoha Hospital, critical chakra emergency medical ward, Anbu unit. It has only been four days."

Itachi wasn't sure what else to say. What did Itachi usually want to hear after waking up in the hospital?

"Everyone is safe." Itachi gently took one of Daiki's hands and guided it to his own chest to help the boy measure his breaths. The boy curled his fingers into Itachi's shirt and let out half a sob. Eventually he let go and Itachi slowly guided the boy's hand back to his chest, smoothing out the sheets that had been ruffled in the fuss.

Without prompting, he poured Daiki some water from a pitcher at his beside, flaring his chakra to call for a medic nin as he helped the boy take kitten sips. It wasn't exactly standard procedure, but it would undoubtedly get someone's attention.

Itachi allowed himself to relax some as a medic nin swiftly entered the room, starting with a diagnostic jutsu before calmly answering Daiki's panic tinged questions. Itachi wasn't going to allow the boy to stay in the lonely hospital while he recovered his strength, nor did he want Daiki to have to fight for much needed attention in the overcrowded orphanage. He'd need to pick of the boy's things, but that would only be the work of minutes.

Maybe he'd take Daiki shopping. He needed to go out to get the boy a new kimono anyway. 

Itachi watched as Daiki white knuckled the starchy hospital sheets, face pale and drawn. The bags under his eyes were even more pronounced than usual, taking on a purple hue that looked almost bruised. His features were a fraction too sharp, in the way that spoke of one too many missed meals. His hair was uneven again.

Itachi continued his close scrutiny of the boy and every new detail he took in made his chest tighten further. Features and characteristics he was familiar with, that he had previously chalked up to being part of Daiki's personality or identity, were actually evidence of neglect.

He'd watched Daiki sleep for concerning periods of time with no one coming to check on his well being. The boy had skipped every meal, snuck out every night without a single consequence. Why hadn't he noticed before now? Wasn't he supposed to be a genius or something?

 _'It's because he was indoctrinated in a society that demanded he not look too closely. Conditioned not question the odd behaviors (signs of trauma) and idiosyncrasies (coping mechanisms) of the shinobi around him. To accept that shinobi were eccentric (deeply disturbed), and that someday he would be too._ _To examine the product too thoroughly lead to questioning the system that created it._ _Good shinobi endured.'_

The sun was bright, dogs barked, and orphans were skinny. They were too quiet or too loud. Craved attention or rejected it in equal turns because it was something they didn't have, weren't used to-

Daiki needed better care than he was receiving, that much was obvious.

Itachi's mother would be more than happy to have an extra mouth to feed and body to coddle.

Part of his brain screamed about how he was going beyond mission parameters, repeating a litany of _"DO NOT ENGAGE SURVEILLANCE ONLY DONOTENGAGE-"_. 

He smothered it beneath the observation of how very small Daiki looked curled up in his hospital bed like a question mark, lines of uncertainty tracing his body.

_'Everyone is safe.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The semester is over so I should have more time to write now. I maintained my 4.0 gpa :3  
> Being a nursing student is exhausting.  
> I've been working on a BNHA OC fanfic recently. Would anyone be interested in that?  
> Regardless- this fic should be picking up soon. Look forward to it.
> 
> Comments fuel the muse, so please leave one if you're enjoying the story so far.


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